Of course the first thing for a poet to do is to have a lady love. Now I never cared enough about the fair sex to get beyond a limited acquaintance with two or three of them, so I created a mistress in my fancy, and called her Belinda. Up to the present time I have written seventy-six poems to this fair one, in which I have traced all the incidents of an imaginary courtship. The first describes our meeting; we did not know each other, and I was struck with Cupid's dart at the outset. It begins thus: -

She was sitting at the winder,

My fair and frail Belinda,

And the golden sunbeams pinned her

Gaze up to the sky;

When, inflamed with ardent passion,

Like a bird of humble fashion,

I just wandered by.

And so on for forty stanzas. After a while I got an introduction; I did not dare to disclose my love, but feasted my eyes on the charms of her arms and the grace of her face. At length, after many trials and tribulations expressed in many mournful strains, my love is crowned with success, and I am about to lead her to the altar and live happily ever afterwards, when she discloses to me that in taking her I must also take her mother, two maiden aunts, a grandmother (paternal), and a little sister under my protection. This is too much, and I send Belinda the following farewell: -

Belinda dear, I sadly fear

Our love we now must sever;

For ne'er a chance shall tie two aunts

To my whole life, - no, never!

Your grandmamma - the chances are -

Will die in course of ages,